


Maybe I'll Let Myself Fall

by thejerseyturnpike



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Hate Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejerseyturnpike/pseuds/thejerseyturnpike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras gets drunk for the first time and spends the night with Grantaire, unlocking something inside of Enjolras that he wasn't aware existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I'll Let Myself Fall

“What are you doing, Apollo?” Grantaire set his bottle down with a thunk on the table as he sat down in the seat next to Enjolras. Enjolras barely looked up from his notes to regard the cynic sitting next to him.

“Working,” he stated dismissively.

“That sounds boring,” Grantaire took a pull from his bottle and offered it to Enjolras.

Enjolras held up his hand to him, not bothering to look up this time.

“No Thank you,” he continued to scratch words onto the paper, “I don’t drink.”

“It’a a new year-“

“It’s March,” Enjolras cut across.

“And there’s always room for new habits,” he continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

Enjolras sighed and dropped his pen. He pinched his nose between his fingers.

“He’s got a point, you know,” Bahorel dropped down next to him, “maybe you need to let loose. You’re always so stressed.”

“So I’m supposed to start taking advice from a drunk? Maybe next I’ll pay a whore to suck my cock and pass out in a gutter since it’s a new year and I can pick up his habits,” Enjolras scoffed.

“Oh I doubt you’d need a whore to suck your cock, fearless leader. I’m sure girls would be lining up to perform the great honor,” Grantaire murmured into his bottle.

“Did you say something?” Enjolras barked.

“No, not at all,” Grantaire smirked as Bahorel laughed, “have a drink.”

He shook the bottle at Enjolras.

Enjolras sighed.

“If I have a drink, will you two leave me alone so I can get some work done?”

The two dark haired men shared a look before looking back at the blonde, “no.”

“But…” Bahorel smirked at Grantaire who crooked his eyebrow, “if you manage to outdrink us, we’ll leave you alone.”

“That sounds like something I will not be doing,” Enjolras picked his pen back up and turned a few pages in his book.

“Then we certainly will not be leaving you alone,” Grantaire took his book from him and flipped through it idlely.

Enjolras slammed his hand down, “Grantaire, I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting to plan and speeches to write. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with drunks like you.”

Grantaire looked taken aback, and Bahorel plucked his book from his limp hands.

“Which is exactly why you should take a night away from your work to drink with friends. Remind you of being human and what we’re fighting for.”

Enjolras regarded him, a little surprised.

“When did you become a philosopher?”

“About three drinks ago,” Bahorel smirked and offered him his own bottle. Enjolras sighed and grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a large swig. He grimaced as he swallowed and spluttered a little. The pair laughed.

“God, why? Why do you waste your time clouding your mind with that when it tastes so vile,” he passed the bottle back to Bahorel, who took a hearty swig.  
“Because it clouds the mind. And I don’t find the taste so unpleasant,” he passed the bottle back to Enjolras, who held up his hand in protest and shook his head.

“No, no, drink up, I’ve got money riding on this saying I can get you at least a little bit drunk,” Bahorel sloshed the contents of the bottle at him. Enjolras sighed and took the bottle once more. Grantaire clinked his against Bahorels, and drank with him.

-

By the end of the night Bahorel had succeeded in getting Enjolras moderately drunk. It hadn’t taken very long since Enjolras had no history of drinking, but as soon as he stood and felt the blood rush in his head he insisted that he had finished drinking. Drunk Enjolras was much more amiable than sober Enjolras, engaging in Courfeyrac’s more frivolous conversations and laughing at some of his less tasteful jokes that he normally would have shook his head at. Enjolras was less marble when a vice of man flowed through his veins, and laughed loudly. The night grew late and slowly everyone began to trickle home. By the end of the night only Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras remained. Grantaire was slumped in his chair, arms crossed, and looking as if he might fall asleep. Enjolras sighed, but kinder than he normally would.

“Why don’t I walk you two home? You’ve never navigated the streets of Paris in a stupor before,” Courfeyrac offered.

“You live in the opposite direction of both of us, and two drunks would make a sober man, I would think. I’ve taken him home enough, I can manage him now.”

“I think you would make less one sober man and more of one whole idiot, but I’ll leave you to it,” Courfeyrac smiled, “hopefully you don’t have too much trouble getting home, and if not, I’m sure you could always bunk up with him,” Courfeyrac winked as he pulled on his jacket. Enjolras waved his hand to dismiss him as he pulled Grantaire to his feet, fumbling with his less than steady hands.

“I feel I should be walking you home, since you always afford me that favor,” Grantaire tugged on his coat.

“Your house is closer, and I’m sure I can manage,” Enjolras swayed as he walked out of the bar.

Grantaire’s apartment was not unfamiliar to Enjolras. As leader of the group he regularly took responsibility to make sure the other members got home safe, and the resident drunk tended to take a good deal of his time. It was no huge inconveniance, Grantaire’s apartment was in between Enjolras’ and the Café Musain, but he often bemoaned taking care of the cynic and insisted that one day he would stop; he couldn’t stand the drinking.

Grantaire staggered in and flopped down on his bed. Enjolras, unsteady, leaned against the door frame and watched as he did so. Grantaire patted the bed next to him.

“Come join me,” Grantaire regarded him from under hooded lids.

Enjolras felt himself compelled, either by the liquor or the comfort of the bed, to stagger forward and flop down next to him. He lay on his stomach for a minute before rolling over.

“How do you do this every night? I don’t feel right in my own brain, it’s like its swimming in a haze.”

“When all that you believe in threatens to disappear before you at any time, it dulls the pain,” Grantaire’s eyes were glazed but his expression was serious.

Enjolras did not want to spend too long a time pondering what that meant, so he rose quickly from the bed, intending to leave. His head swam from the sudden movement and he placed a hand on the bed to steady himself.

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked, sitting up.

“Dizzy,” was all he said.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight? I don’t like the idea of you trying to make it home by yourself, and, even though I would love nothing more than to tend to you as you have to me, I would be little help in getting you home.”

Enjolras regarded him with an odd look, and Grantaire followed with “I know you must have much disdain with sharing a bed with a cynic, but abide me this favor for the night; I would sleep much better knowing I could help you through your first drunken night than worrying you died in some street from striking your head or getting lost.”

“My last drunken night, most likely,” Enjolras remarked, and sat down on the bed, “and I will take your offer, provided one thing.”

Grantaire grinned, “What is that, Apollo? Ask and I will do it.”

“Don’t you dare snore,” Enjolras kicked off his shoes and pulled himself next to Grantaire. Grantaire’s grin was wide as he kicked off his shoes, “I only snore when I’m dead drunk. I don’t think I’ve imbibed quite that much tonight.”

“Fine then,” Enjolras tugged off his coat and waistcoat and Grantaire followed suit.

Enjolras lay on his back with his eyes closed, not noticing Grantaire watching him. He seemed to be thinking, and eventually he spoke, eyes still closed.

“This liquor makes me feel strange,” he stated.

“How so?”

“I’ve never found myself concerned with matters of the flesh, but…” he paused.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow and shifted on the bed a little.

“But?”

“I find myself… wanting…” Enjolras left the end of the sentence hang in the air.

Grantaire shifted to lie closer to Enjolras, elevated above him. Grantaire looked at the beautiful, pale face beneath him, moving his gaze from the golden crown, to his piercing blue eyes, to his small nose, to his red lips. Grantaire licked his own instinctively, and suddenly there was a hand curling in his dark hair and pulling him down to Enjolras, his lips crashing onto Grantaire’s.

Grantaire’s breath hitched in his surprise, but soon was kissing Enjolras back. He felt Enjolras’ lips part and he parted his instinctively, allowing Enjolras’ tongue to slip inside his mouth. Enjolras was as dynamic a leader then as he ever was speaking; he took charge of the kiss, let it be a slow slide of lips and tongue until he tugged on the dark locks between his fingers and kissed him more fiercely, arching up into the kiss. Grantaire whimpered and placed a hand on either side of Enjolras, positioning himself on top of Enjolras. Enjolras ran a hand up Grantaire’s side and he shuddered, he placed a hand on one side of Enjolras’ face. As they kissed Enjolras took Grantaire’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it; Grantaire’s eyes fluttered open and rolled backward and Enjolras felt him smile as he pulled away slightly. Enjolras took his lip between his teeth again and sucked harder this time, Grantaire responded with a roll of his hips and his groin brushed against Enjolras. A second hand dug his nails into Grantaire’s shoulder blade, and Grantaire grunted. He pulled away and looked at the blonde beneath him; his lips were red and swollen and his pupils were dilated; he was a thing of beauty under the cynic’s gaze. Enjolras bit down on his own bottom lip and gave him a look of confusion; it was all Grantaire could do to stop himself from whimpering.

“What?” Enjolras asked.

“This isn’t a good idea…” Grantaire hated himself for saying the words, but would hate himself more if he let it continue without discussing it.

“I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I am in complete control of my faculties, Grantaire.”

“I feel like I know a little more about drinking than you do, my dear leader.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the expert since you spend most of your nights drunk off your ass and most of your days sleeping,” Enjolras snapped.

“I simply believe you would regret letting a tainted cynic distract you from your reach to liberty. But if you’re sure.”

“Who’s to say we need tell anyone?” Enjolras asked, and stroked a hand down Grantaire’s back, making him shudder. Enjolras licked his lips, and Grantaire, unable to help himself, bent down and began tracing slow, soft kisses down Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras, for his part, latched onto Grantaire, biting and sucking at his neck, throat, and the bit of exposed chest. Grantaire grunted at the roughness, but jerked his hips forward again instinctively. Enjolras’ hands flew to the buttons on Grantaire’s shirt and began undoing them as best as his fumbling hands could. Grantaire did his best to aid him with this endeavor, and ripped off the shirt as soon as the buttons were undone. He then set to work on Enjolras’ shirt, and he scrambled out of it. Enjolras sat up and began his work on Grantaire’s neck again, biting and sucking so hard that Grantaire was certain there would be evidence of this the next day, not that he cared. He relished in the feeling of his Apollo on his neck, on his mouth, on his sides.

He wanted more though, wanted more of Enjolras. He pushed him back down to lying on the bed and began kissing down Enjolras’ chest. He let his hands run up and down his chest as well, reveling in the feeling of the taught body beneath him. He drug his nails over the taught chest, rolled a thumb over a nipple as his other hand gripped Enjolras’ hip tightly. Enjolras gasped and thrust upward; Grantaire’s hands both moved to the button of Enjolras’ trousers. He ran his tongue along Enjolras’ lower abdomen and he shuddered. Grantaire looked at him through his lashes.

“Would you… permit me to?” Grantaire rolled a thumb over the button of the trousers to make sure his offer was clear.

“Please,” Enjolras breathed and thrusted up slightly, allowing Grantaire to tug off his trousers.

Grantaire took in the sight before him before continuing. Only in the fantasies that he had late at night or in the middle of one of Enjolras’ passionate speeches had he pictured Enjolras naked beneath him, letting him prostrate himself before his golden god, but never did he imagine it would ever happen. Grantaire took his time looking, making sure that this memory would not fade with the haze of drunkenness in the morning. He watched for so long that Enjolras grew impatient, his hands twitched in the sheets as he asked, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing, love, just making sure I remember this moment for a long time,” Grantaire ran his hands along Enjolras’ torso and legs, and began kissing along his thighs and stomach. Enjolras grunted and twisted his fingers in the sheets, his cock twitched in anticipation.

Grantaire began slowly, meticulously, his hands on Enjolras’ hips to steady him. He wrapped his mouth around the head of Enjolras’ cock and ran his tongue along the slit. Enjolras gasped at the sensation. Grantaire smirked up at him and did it again, slower, tonguing it and circling his tongue around the head until Enjolras was almost writhing beneath him. He slid himself down Enjolras’ cock until it was completely engulfed in wet heat; Enjolras groaned and thrusted slightly. Grantaire tightened his grip on his hips to keep him in place and slowly began moving his mouth up and down his cock. A hand twisted in his dark hair, pulling at his curls. Grantaire began to move his mouth in earnest now, quicker and he moved his tongue in time with his mouth, dragging it in small circles. Enjolras whimpered and tightened his grip in Grantaire’s hair as Grantaire hollowed his cheeks and sucked with more pressure, taking time to run his tongue along the head every time he reached the top of Enjolras’ cock. Enjolras was having trouble keeping still, and eventually Grantaire relinquished control of Enjolras’ hips and let him thrust up into his mouth. Enjolras grunted Grantaire’s name with a warning, “Grantaire, I’m gonna…” his words disappeared into a groan as Grantaire began humming on Enjolras’ cock, letting him do the work of thrusting as he hummed and worked his tongue along his thickness. Enjolras came with a groan and twisting of fingers in hair; he ceased his thrusting and Grantaire swallowed him down one more time, pulling off slowly and swallowing.  
Enjolras was panting beneath him; he looked fucked out and exhausted and pleased. His eyes were closed as he panted and ran a hand through his hair. Grantaire’s own cock twitched in his trousers but he did not want to push his luck, feeling incredibly fortunate that Enjolras had allowed him that much. He crawled off from on top of him and Enjolras kicked his trousers the remainder of the way off. He moaned, content, and opened his eyes to look at Grantaire.

“I told you you wouldn’t need to pay a girl to suck your cock, that they would be lining up to do it,” Grantaire said, a little sadly.

“Hush,” Enjolras reached up and wrapped his arms around Grantaire and pulled him down to him, “I think you know I would not prefer the company of a woman in my bed better than anyone.”

“Technically it’s my bed,” Grantaire murmured.

“Hush,” he repeated, burrowing his head in Grantaire’s neck, making himself a place to sleep there. Grantaire, for his part, wrapped his arms around Enjolras and quickly succumbed to sleep.

-

Courfeyrac proffered the brandy bottle to Enjolras, who help up his hand and shook his head.

“No thank you. I think I have had my first and last experience drinking this week past.”

Courfeyrac shrugged and took a swig before passing the bottle to Grantaire.

“Being drunk not to your liking?”

“No, I prefer to be in control of my faculties. I didn’t particularly enjoy myself that evening.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself,” Grantaire murmered into the mouth of the bottle. Enjolras shot him a glare as he drank from it.

“Oh? Did you find something to entertain yourself?” Courfeyrac asked, wiggling his fingers at Grantaire to ask for the return of the bottle.

Grantaire passed it back to him, smirking at Enjolras, “I believe I found something that Enjolras enjoyed well enough,” he winked at Enjolras and licked his lips.

Enjolras glowered at him for a moment before rising, leaving the table and the room.

Grantaire smirked and followed him out.

“I’m sorry Enjolras, I did not mean to offend,” he stumbled after Enjolras into the adjoining side room, where Enjolras had been angrily pacing, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dear leader,” Grantaire began, closing the door behind him, “it was merely a joke-“

Grantaire barely had time to recognize the fierce look Enjolras gave him and the throaty growl before Enjolras was shoving him against the door, hands gripping his shirt tightly.

“What the hell was that about,” Enjolras snarled, grasping Grantaire’s jacket and slamming him against the door again.

“It was a joke.”

“A joke that someone could have figured out what you meant,” the ferocity in his eyes both frightened and encouraged Grantaire.

“And what’s the matter with that?” his hands ghosted to Enjolras’ middle and began trailing his fingers along his sides.

Enjolras grasped his hands and slammed them to the wall, pinning down his arms.

“It was a stupid decision. And I thought I made it clear I don’t want any of our friends to know,” he growled.

“Do you really think so little of me?” Grantaire tilted his head, “that you would sweep our little affair under the rug? Pretend it never happened? I’m just someone meaningless you can go back to ignoring after I’m done sucking your cock?”

Enjolras looked as if he had been struck. His grip slackened a small amount. Grantaire’s face fell, surprised with what he said.

“I… I’m sorry Enjolras, I-“

Enjolras cut him off by crushing his lips onto Grantaire’s. Grantaire’s eyes widened in surprise before he shut them, leaning into the kiss. Grantaire parted his lips and Enjolras was quick to deepen the kiss; Grantaire moaned into his mouth. Urged by the sound and Grantaire’s growing erection pressing against him, Enjolras bit down on Grantaire’s lip and sucked hard. He relinquished his hold of Grantaire’s arms and gripped his hips, nails digging in through layers of clothes. Grantaire bucked his hips towards Enjolras and pushed toward him, making an effort to push them both away from the door. Enjolras gripped his hips tighter and slammed him back against the door. Releasing his hold on Grantaire’s lip, he bit a trail down his neck, pulling his cravat and shirt collar loose and clamping down. He sucked, hard, and Grantaire let out a deep moan. Enjolras guided him, not gently, over to the table and shoved him against it. Grantaire leaned against it, using his elbows to prop himself up. Enjolras made quick work of Grantaire’s waistcoat, unbuttoning it and his shirt with haste, biting a line down his chest as he went.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire moaned as he watched the blonde work his way down his chest.

“Shut up,” Enjolras instructed before biting down hard just above Grantaire’s navel. Grantaire let out a small grunt before rising off his elbows to unbutton Enjolras’ waistcoat and shirt, but where the blonde had left dark bite marks, Grantaire kissed and licked his way down. Enjolras tugged his cravat off and tossed it aside, pulling off his waistcoat and shirt once it was open. Grantaire shrugged out of his and began tugging on the fastens of Enjolras’ pants. The blonde quickly wound his hands in the dark curls and tugged, hard, pulling him away from his cock. Grantaire looked at him with surprise, and Enjolras responded with another command.

“Up. Turn around.”

Grantaire allowed himself to be guided into a standing position before Enjolras roughly spun him and began unfastening his pants. Grantaire arched into him, and when his pants were unfastened he was quick to get rid of them, stripping them off his legs and tossing them aside. Enjolras pushed him back down onto the table and unfastened his own pants, tossing them aside on top of Grantaire’s. He ran a hand down Grantaire’s spine; he shivered at the sensation and the feeling of his skin exposed in the cool air. He traced his fingers down Grantaire’s back, digging his nails in the further down he dragged his hand. Admiring the red marks his nails left, he dragged his hand back up and clawed his way down his back again, then slapped his ass with a sharp smack. Grantaire grunted and Enjolras smirked at the sound. Enjolras inserted one finger into Grantaire, and he moaned again, deeper and louder, arching into Enjolras. He didn’t take his time, thrusting quickly and deeply into Grantaire with one finger, then two, then three. Grantaire continued to moan into the table, his hands scrambling for purchase on the rough wood. Grantaire began to thrust backward against Enjolras’ fingers, and one of his hands snaked down to his prick. He began to stroke, which rewarded him another sharp smack on his ass.

“Stop touching yourself,” Enjolras commanded. Grantaire groaned in complaint, but heeded him anyway, returning his hand to the table.

“Why?”

“Because I want to make you come untouched,” Enjolras continued thrusting into him with his fingers, thrusting them deeply and curving them making Grantaire gasp.

“You’ll make me come soon enough from that alone,” he panted.

“Then I should stop,” Enjolras stated, removing his fingers from Grantaire who sighed in frustration, “because I’m not near done with you yet,” Enjolras spit on his hand, gave his cock a few quick strokes, and, gripping his hips tightly, thrust into the dark haired man. This merited him another deep groan, and Enjolras twisted his fingers into the dark curls, tugging hard.

Grantaire bent his head to the table and groaned Enjolras’ name loudly. Enjolras thrusted into him mercilessly, Grantaire arching into him with each roll of his hips. Enjolras smacked him on the ass again, hard, and Grantaire grunted.

“Oh God, yes. Again.”

“Beg for it,” Enjolras bent his mouth to the back of Grantaire’s neck, biting down hard. Grantaire gasped.

“Enjolras. God. Please.”

“Please what?” Enjolras continued to thrust, one hand still in Grantaire’s dark curls.

“Please. Hit me again,” Grantaire begged.

Enjolras brought his hand down again on Grantaire’s ass once more, harder this time than before. Grantaire cried out. His hands scrabbled for purchase on the wooden table. He was nearing his climax, but he knew Enjolras would be unrelenting until then.

Enjolras gripped Grantaire’s hip with his free hand to thrust into him better, Grantaire was coming undone at each thrust of his hips. Enjolras, for his part, looked wild; his hair, damp with perspiration, clung to him, the pupils of his half-lidded eyes were blown wide, he was biting his lip to keep himself from crying out. He gave Grantaire’s hair a sharp tug as he grunted, spilling inside of Grantaire. Grantaire could hold out no longer, and at the sound of Enjolras’ climax he came, spilling onto his belly and the table. Enjolras clung on for a minute longer, gave one last thrust, and pulled out. Grantaire lay on the table gasping as Enjolras collected his clothes and began to dress himself.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire whimpered. Enjolras ignored the sound as he tugged on his pants.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire repeated, louder this time. He pulled himself off the table.

“What?” Enjolras said, doing up the buttons on his shirt.

“I… we…” Grantaire stuttered, “that was…”

“You don’t tell anyone and we can do it again,” Enjolras was almost entirely dressed; he was focusing on doing up his cravat again.

“I… really?” Grantaire seized a rag that he found on the floor and set to cleaning himself up.

Enjolras hesitated as he regarded the debauched sight that was Grantaire. His curls were sticking up at odd angles owing to the sweat and Enjolras tugging on it. His chest and shoulders had a sheen of sweat that drew attention to his lithe muscles. He was sitting on the table and looking at Enjolras expectantly. Something about the way he was looking at Enjolras, and the bead of sweat that was trailing its way down his stomach southward, made Enjolras certain that he wanted to take Grantaire like that again. The drunken cynic that Enjolras typically held contempt for had unlocked something deep and primal within him, and Enjolras wanted more.

“Yes,” Enjolras breathed, watching the bead of sweat as it reached Grantaire’s groin. Grantaire smiled and Enjolras shook himself out of his reverie.

“Get dressed,” he said, throwing Grantaire his pants before walking out.


End file.
